


That's Hot

by QueSeraAwesome



Category: Red vs. Blue
Genre: Crack, Gen, Humor, M/M, No Sex, No actual spitroasting occurs, at least not that kind
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-06-07
Updated: 2014-06-07
Packaged: 2018-02-03 17:03:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 469
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1752164
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/QueSeraAwesome/pseuds/QueSeraAwesome
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The anon requested Simmons and Grif spitroasting Donut. This is not exactly what they wanted, but it's technically what they asked for?</p>
            </blockquote>





	That's Hot

“I’m gonna die,” Donut moans. “I’m gonna die I’m gonna die I’m going to die, I don’ want to die.”

“Donut!” Grif whispers urgently from his spot hiding in the bushes. “Pipe down. They’ll hear you.”

“I still haven’t seen Paris yeeeet,” Donut whines. “Why isn’t anyone helping me?”

The fire glints off his lightish-red armor. It’s kind of pretty if you ignore the fact that Donut is, literally, tied to a spit in the middle of the canyon, turning slowly while the assembled aliens work on preparing the rest of their dinner.

“Donut, shut up,” Simmons whispers. “You’re going to give away our position.”

“I’m going to die,” Donut continues. “You guys are the worst, why do I keep showing up to save your asses? I could be literally anywhere else right now. I could be on a beach with Doc, drinking a Sex on the Beach. _Having_ sex on the beach.”

“For fuck’s sake,” says Simmons. “You’re going to be fine. There’s no way they can get that fire hot enough to melt through your armor. Your suit controls should be able to handle it fine, we just have to wait until—“

“ _Whyyyyyyyyyyyy?_ ”

Simmons considers the slowly turning soldier thoughtfully.

“You know, I’m not even sure he can hear us.”

“I don’t think he’s _listening_ to us, big difference,” Grif replies. “I wouldn’t be listening to you either if you abandoned me to a fate of being slowly cooked and eaten by a big group of aliens.”

“I didn’t abandon him to be eaten,” Simmons snaps. “Besides, you did it too.”

“Yeah,” Grif says. “But I wasn’t really counting on _that_.”

One of the larger aliens has found Donut’s chef hat from when he and Doc do “cooking shows” and has put it on. He has a tray of what looks like alien herbs in front of him, sniffing each bundle delicately, as if making a decision. He makes a pleased honking noise, sets aside two bundles of something purple, leafy, and shiny.

“My hat,” Donut says, affronted. “Now you’re just mocking me. You better not get any stains on that, mister, or I will give you such indigestion, you will not believe. No. _Diarrhea_. I’ll do it, I swear I will.”

“We just have to wait until Sarge, Wash and Tucker get back,” Simmons says. “They’ll know what to do. They’ll come up with a better plan.”

“Better than letting the rookie get captured by the aliens and spit roasted?” Grif asks, sarcasm thick in his voice. “Because that one seemed like a winner.”

“Dude, don’t say ‘spitroasted’” Simmons says. “You make it sound dirty.”

"Yeah. Because that should be our biggest concern right now."

“I swear to god,” Donut screeches. “Isn’t it about time someone else on this team had to deal with this shit?”

**Author's Note:**

> Queseraawesome.tumbr.com if you need more of this madness


End file.
